Few films have made me really consider the nature of communication the way Hong Khaou's masterpiece "Lilting" has, a film in which a fair half of the conversations are ones in which a translator repeats what we just heard in a different language, and then waits until the other person has said what they have to say, and translates it back into English for us. About a quarter of the Chinese dialogue in the film is subtitled, as a result of this. The approach is fascinating because it induces a sense of tranquility in which we study the faces and the intonations of in the languages we understand, and don't, for clues. This is also the only film I think I've ever seen where a character forgets what he's about to say, pauses, forgets, searches for it and then when he realises says it that little bit triumphantly. Think about how often that happens in real life; think about how you never see that in movies; you now have some kind of indication of the level of nuance this film is working at.
The plot is simple, reveals itself slowly, and I won't ruin any of it here because the nature of past and present, memory and events which happened some time ago yet impact the now are integral to the structural precision of the film. All I will say is this- there is an older Chinese woman living in a care home called Junn, played by Cheng Pei-Pei, a man called Richard, played by Ben Whishaw, who is the lover of Junn's son Kai (Andrew Leung), a translator called Vann (Naomi Christie), and Alan (Peter Bowles) who is Junn's potential suitor in the care home.
All five performances are perfect for the film, but the two stand outs are Whishaw and Pei-Pei- they are the bedrock of this film and the film knows it. Shots are very content just to regard their faces for a little while, and the film does prove the old assertion that the human face is the most interesting thing you can have in a film. Both performances have their modes- Whishaw has a deep rooted sadness forever on his face, which is a marked contrast with Pei-Peis twinkly eyes which occasionally becomes sternness.
There are so many little things about this film I adored. It is tackling big themes such as the grieving process, love, and the nature of relationships between mother and son, yet it is unafraid of going for big laughs (and getting them). It also manages to be compelling not because of the plot, but because it allows us to be invested heavily in the characters and makes us wish them well. Conversations go on and on and we listen intently, because the characters are actually talking about things that matter, and listening to what the other person has to say. Note how characters will say something to the translator, think about it and rescind it, rephrase it- the film explores how we tailor our words to those we are saying them to.
Maybe I've made this all seem terribly dull and heavy- it's not. This film has a light, almost jolly tone considering, which is in part down to the rhapsodic cinematography from Urszula Pontikos, and predominantly due to the fierce wit which is a strong undercurrent (there are even penis jokes).
A special mention must also go to the sound department, Anna Bertmark, Matt Johns and Joakim Sündstrom, whose work allows the film that final element which brings it to life. In various places sound overlaps, along with the occasional time-hopping the film does, and there is always the feeling of a tight control over what we can and can't hear. We become inspired to think about this, and why we are hearing what and what that means, and as a result the film is that bit more immersive.
It's an ultimately noble enterprise, concerned with fundamentals of human experience, a deeply touching film of sensitivity and depth that lingers long after the credits, for creating real people and allowing us to care about them. It's one of the very best films this year, I adored it and cannot wait to see it again.
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